Hidden Truths
by Moon Warrior
Summary: PG, cause G just doesn't seem right. A series of short stories about the forgotten or misunderstood Harry Potter characters, from my point of view anyway. Now up, Draco Malfoy! (No, it is NOT "My father hurts me I'm really a Light-side guy")
1. Parvati Patil

Parvati Patil  
  
I'm really not what they think I am.  
Everybody sees ditzy, pretty, popular Parvati Patil. They see my outside. They see my looks, and the way I act, sometimes, and they think they know who I am. They're not even close.  
Even Lavendar, my supposed best friend, doesn't know. She doesn't know that secretly, I despise Lavendar's airheadedness. She doesn't know that secretly, I have a dream to be Head Girl. If I told her that, she would probably say something about how the badge would clash with my robes. Right. Lavendar never was the brightest crayon in the box.  
My boyfriend, Seamus. Doesn't get it. He goes out with the outer Parvati. Not the inner. He doesn't know what I like, or want. He got me a pair of socks for my birthday, for goodness' sake.  
That's why I was so excited that time that Harry Potter asked me to the Yule Ball in our fourth year. I thought that of anybody in the entire school, Harry should see past ditzy Outer Parvati. But I was wrong. The whole thing was a complete disaster. He danced with me, but only as much as he had to. I suppose it was my fault, too. I didn't really give him too much of a chance, after those dances, and simply went off with Claude when he asked me to dance.  
I also thought Hermione Granger might realize who I really was. But Outer Parvati has been in control for too long. When I asked her if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with Lavendar and I, she said she didn't feel like clothes shopping. As though that was all I ever did.  
There's nothing I can do anymore. No one sees the changes, they only see the way I used to be. I hold up a hand in class, and the teacher will simply say, "Yes, Miss Patil, you may use the restroom," and I put my hand down, embarassed. No one is willing to give me any more chances, and I guess it's only fair. I suppose I've used up all my chances... 


	2. Blaise Zabini

Blase Zabini  
  
Blaise Zabini.  
The forgotten Slytherin. I mean, I go to classes, eat my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I've never liked Slytherin, even. And the other Slytherins never liked me.  
I've often wondered how I was put into Slytherin in the first place. I am the opposite of everything Slytherin stands for. I am a Muggle-born, I hate snakes, I think Harry Potter is kind of cool, I think Draco Malfoy is a turd. I am the kind of person who is classically described as "sweet," "kind," and "gentle." And they all hate me.  
I remember to this day what the Sorting Hat whispered into my ear.  
"Blaise Zabini, eh? Oh, yes yes yes, I do love a challenge. Your personality simply screams 'Gryffindor,' but I don't think Gryffindor is for you. It wouldn't give you the proper, well, structure, you need. And I think, that the most appropriate thing for you, would be SLYHERIN!"  
I remember the shock I felt, from being told I would do excellently in one house, and then being placed in the house that was its mortal enemy, so to speak. I still don't know why I was put in Slytherin. Structure? Ha. These people seem to enjoy tearing me down, more than helping to build me up. But, I'll overcome that stereotype about Slytherin House. I'll prove that at least one good person can come out of Slytherin. Me.  
  
  
(A/N) Hey, I actually managed to avoid the whole "is Blaise Zabini a girl or a boy" issue. Please, please review! An oh, by the way, I don't own anything. 


	3. Draco Malfoy

DISCLAIMER: I own diddly squat.  
  
  
  
THIS STORY BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE LETTER "D" AND THE NUMBER "5"!  
  
  
  
(A/N) Okay, my mind view of this has switched from it simply being private, to it being.... I dunno, something that everyone can see, but most people don't bother to look. Like the option of paying attention during History of Magic. Oh, sure, you can, but who the hell would want to?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
DRACO MALFOY  
  
  
  
Little idiots. Oh yes, I've read what people have written before me. And I must make the comment, that spilling your guts (so to speak) like that, out where anyone can read it is a bad idea. And Blaise? Your life is now to be a living hell. Little Gryffindor wannabe. Go join Patil, I'm sure you all could have a wonderful time crying on one another's shoulders. You're no Slytherin, you Mudblood. Beware, Zabini.  
  
And you, Parvati Patil. If you're not a ditz, I don't know what is. Head Girl indeed. Only if every other girl in our year suddenly snuffs it. And just to clue you in? Potter didn't ask you out because he likes you. He asked you out because he's so pathetic he couldn't find another date. Forget trying to have depth and go back to being a brainless fashion-analyst. That means someone who says clothes are good or bad.  
  
But, even if I did have insecurities (not likely), I wouldn't be fool enough to write them here, for all to see. I am Draco Malfoy, and nothing can bring me down.  
  
  
  
  
  
(A/N) Woah, where in the HELL did that come from? Dr. Bojangles, c'mere, you got some 'splaining to do....  
  
And bluemeanies, just to respond to your comment about Blaise, the Hat didn't put him (or her, I see Blaise as a him, for some reason) in there to be mean. The way I see it, Blaise needed life to be difficult, to "build character". Gryffindor would have ben too easy for him. But I dunno, blame Bojangles for this, not me. I just use the keyboard.  
  
I figured that with a bunch of mini-stories about people who aren't what they seem to be, there's got to be at least ONE who really IS what he seems to be. And as much as I love the idea of a nice Draco, I honestly think that Satan will go to work in a snowplow before it happens in the books. I may be wrong, but I think that boy is a DE-i-T (Death Eater in Training). So, if nice Dr. Bojangles inspires me, I might write more with this. And reviews help Dr. Bojangles move the creative juices, so REVIEW!!!!  



End file.
